Christmas Tree Blues

 Saturday morning comes early pulling Writer Lady from a long night's slumber and happy dreams. Rising, she brews coffee and prepares to make herself comfortable planning on watching the sunrise as she enjoys that first cup of coffee sitting in the living room. Writer Lady opens the shutters and realizing she's still in her robe, closes the shutters instead imagining the beauty of the sunrise because if she wants to actually see the sunrise she has to get dressed first and that's just not happening now. She sits on the couch enjoying the serenity of the day. Dobby lays on the far side of the room camouflaged by the Christmas tree alternately napping and gazing at her adoringly.

“It's so quiet.” Writer Lady says. “Kind of nice isn't it kitty?”

Dobby looks at her and blinks contentedly.

“The holidays went well too except for the whole candy overdose thing last week. I was so sick.”

Dobby ignores her and goes back to his nap.

“So it's January 3^rd. Here we are at January 3^rd already. You know what that means don't you?”

The ginger tabby continues to sleep choosing to remain oblivious to her thoughts.

“Today the Christmas tree gets taken down.”

Dobby's eyes open and widen.

“Don't look at me like that kitty. Today is the day. It's time.”

Rising from his spot Dobby makes his way over to the couch. Jumping up he settles himself on Writer Lady's lap. Reaching up he rubs his head against hers and licks her face.

“That's sweet kitty. You can try buttering me up all you want but today is the day, the Christmas tree comes down.”

Dobby responds letting out a pitiful cry.

“It's really not that bad.” Writer Lady says.

Dobby bites Writer Lady on the end of the nose and jumps down off of the couch.

“Ouch!” She says.

“Ouch? It's really not that bad Mom. It's only your nose. It's not like you use it or anything.”

Writer Lady glares at Dobby for a moment. “Dobby kitty I know how much you love the tree and how much it means to you. I do, but it has to be put away.”

“Why?” He asks.

“Why?” She parrots.

“Yes Mom, why.”

“Because it's big. It takes up too much space in the living room and if we leave it out it will just collect dust.”

“I need the Christmas tree. It makes me feel safe and loved. I can lay under it and watch everything that goes on but no one sees me unless I want them to.”

“You have places all over the house that allow you to do that.” Writer Lady says.

“But Tree is different. He's my friend.” Dobby says.

“Dobby kitty you have lots of friends.”

“How long will it be before you fold them up into boxes too?” He asks pouting.

“Dobby are you pouting?”

“No. Yeah. No.” He looks up at Writer Lady. “Which answer will get me what I want?”

“Neither.”

“How about this, it's Saturday morning and it's the first bit of time we've had alone in the house for quite a while. I'll just sip my coffee, have some breakfast and take my own sweet time getting dressed. You and your tree will have plenty of time alone together.”

Dobby blinks contentedly and things are resolved, for the moment.

Four hours later...

“Back you heathenish wench! I said BACK!” Dobby stands between Writer Lady and the Christmas tree holding a large cross in one paw and a bottle of holy water in the other.

“Dobby, I'm not possessed. I'm your mother. It's time to take down this tree. You need to move kitty.”

“You have more Christmas day trinkets to dispose of go forth and occupy your fiendish self with them.”

“I have already put the other decorations away.” Writer Lady points out calmly. “The tree is all that's left.”

The ginger tabby bows his head in defeat and gestures for her to continue her work. Writer Lady proceeds to remove the ornaments from the Christmas tree. He grins slyly and disappears into the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice calls from behind Writer Lady.

“I told you Dobby it's time to take down the tree.” She answers without turning around.

“You are wrong. Those are not your instructions.” The voice says. “Your instructions are too to teach a bee how to bend it's knee.”

“What?”

“Your instructions are to go to Saturn and pick some tea.”

Writer Lady continues to remove ornaments.

“You must have dinner with a flea. Go NOW.” The voice says.

“Who's saying this stuff?” Writer Lady asks turning around she looks down to see Dobby in an old Skeletor costume that completely swallows him.

“It is I. Skeletor.”

“Nice try Skeletor. You might want to go with someone more intimidating next time.”

Writer Lady hears heavy labored breathing behind her.

“Do not question me,” it says.

Writer Lady turns around to see a large Darth Vader helmet with four orange paws and a long orange tail sticking out underneath. “Darth Vader huh? That's a little better.” She says turning back to the half naked tree.

“You are really committed to doing this, aren't you Mom?” Darth Vader's voice asks.

“You know it's time kitty.”

Dobby crawls out from under the helmet and lays down on the floor head stretched away from his body. The martyr resigned to his fate. After a time, Writer Lady removes the tree's top from its plastic base.

“I can't watch this.” Dobby says painfully and retreats under the bed.

“Dobby, kitty, kitty, kitty.” Writer Lady calls. “Dob-by!”

Dobby opens one eye to find Writer Lady peering at him.

“There you are.”

“Is it, over?” He asks.

“Yes. It's over you can come out now.” She answers.

“I'll come out. Eventually.”

“Dobby, I know that the Christmas tree is very important to you.”

“He's my friend.” Dobby says.

“I know. Some friends we can't see all the time. Some friends only get to visit once in a while. It makes time spent together all the more special.”

Dobby glares at Writer Lady.

“Have I ever told you the story of a snowman named 'Frosty'?” She asks.

Dobby shakes his head.

Writer Lady tells him the story.

“So he is only around when it's snowing out?” Dobby asks.

“When Spring comes Frosty goes home until next year. That is what Christmas tree did, he went home until next year. Do you understand?” Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah. I guess so.” Dobby says coming out from under the bed.

“Let me just put these boxes away in the attic and we'll play a game or something.”

Dobby leaves Writer Lady to her work and goes to inspect the living room. Halfway through his inspection the ginger tabby's attention is drawn to the window. The sky looks different. Bright but there is no sun. Something is falling from the sky but he doesn't hear the dripping sound like when it's raining. He climbs into a chair and leans against the sill for a better look. “Mom.” Dobby calls. “Mom!”

“Coming!” She calls from above his head. A few minutes later she finds Dobby in the living room. He starts pawing at the window the moment she stops at his side.

“Do you see the snow kitty? I didn't know it was going to snow today. Pretty, huh?” She asks.

“It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Dobby says.

They stand at the window watching the snow until...

Dobby coughs.

Writer Lady doesn't say anything.

Dobby coughs again.

Still nothing.

More coughing.

“Dobby, kitty are you sick?”

“No. Isn't it time for you to get going?” He asks.

“Going where?”

“Up to the attic. It's snowing. If Frosty lives so does my tree.”